


Do Nut Steal

by AbsoluteRift, InvaderNamek12, RadioactiveDeLorean, redwoodroots, Taelon



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 20:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsoluteRift/pseuds/AbsoluteRift, https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvaderNamek12/pseuds/InvaderNamek12, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactiveDeLorean/pseuds/RadioactiveDeLorean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/redwoodroots/pseuds/redwoodroots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taelon/pseuds/Taelon
Summary: Stan and Ford go off to get donuts for their mom, but run into a pastry problem along the way.





	Do Nut Steal

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Secret Santa oneshot that we wrote for a good friend on Discord.

“Wow, a whole dollar!” Stan exclaimed as he held the dollar aloft in front of him.

Ford giggled. “That’s the third time you’ve said that.”

Stanley and Stanford Pines were walking down the sidewalk in their good old town of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. They were running an important errand. Their mother was to have a gathering of other “psychics” over, and the two had been tasked with going down to the Bakery and picking up a dozen donuts. Filbrick Pines had entrusted Stan with a single dollar, with the instructions they were to get the donuts and could spend the change on something together at the Five and Dime store a block away. It was the first time Stan had been entrusted with so much money, and he was really excited.

“Yeah but I’ve never had a full dollar before!”  Stan smiled as he smelled the currency. In this day and age, it was quite a bit of money.  

“You keep doing weird things like that and you’ll turn into a dollar!” Ford said with a laugh. Stan blew a raspberry back and pocketed the cash.

As the two passed an alleyway, they heard the sound of the alley cats knocking over trash cans. A couple of the felines were yowling at each other but most of them were just toppling over the garbage cans in search of food.

“I guess they’re hungry, too,” Stan noted as his tummy rumbled a little.  “I could go for a donut.”

“You heard Ma, the donuts are for her guests. We’ll get some candy or something at the five and dime.”

“Okay…” Stan was actually looking forward to a donut himself, but candy would have to do instead.

“Hey, did you know cats often have polydactyly, too?”

Stan chuckled, punching Ford playfully in the shoulder.  “Yeah, but at least cats are cuddly! You’re just a big bag of nerd!”

“Hey!” Ford took a swipe at his brother, missing as Stan spun away, dodging and laughing.

 _Thud_.

Stan had run head first into the local hobo. The bearded man glared at him, baring his yellowing teeth.

“Rassin frassin kids!  Get away!” he yelled at Stan as he grabbed for the nearest pebble and threw it. It smacked Stan in the back of the head.

“Ow!  We’re going already, geez!”

They hurried away.

The bakery their father had instructed them to go to was nestled snugly between a tattoo parlour and a coffee shop on the seafront of Glass Shard Beach. The words “Beatrice’s Bakes and Cakes” were painted on the sign outside in cursive black lettering. The shop window was filled with a display cabinet of all sorts of exciting and unusual cakes, ranging from cupcakes with sculpted icing to loaves of bread in a huge mixture of colors and flavors. The two were distracted for a moment by the extravagant display. Then Ford pushed open the door.

Immediately, both children were assailed by the smell of sweets and baked goods. There were chocolates galore, along with fresh-baked crumpets, donuts, pies, and other pastries delicately frosted and glittering with sugar. Both boys gaped at the plethora of pastry, mouths watering.

The twins were greeted almost immediately by an older woman, barely five feet tall with long, dry, pie-tin-gray hair that hung all the way to her waist.  Her crooked, yellowing teeth peeked out from behind her smiling lips. Stan gawked at her, his eyes fixed on a wart on her upper lip.

_Whoa, I wonder if she’s a witch! Only witches have warts like that!_

Ford returned the smile somewhat hesitantly. “Hello, you must be Beatrice, correct?”

“That I am, young man,” the lady responded. Her voice had a similar tone to nails on a chalkboard, cracked and roughened by age, but it was polite and pleasant in tone. “What can I do for you today?”

“We’d like a dozen donuts for our mother,” Ford said simply. Stan had busied himself staring at all the cakes in a cabinet at the back of the store. “Our father sent us here to buy some for her party this afternoon.”

“Certainly, let me show you what I have to offer.” Beatrice led Ford over to a tall glass display cabinet layered with five different shelves, all heavily laden with baked treats. On the way, they passed an open door, and Ford could see a group of children working in the kitchen. “Oh, don't mind them, they're just my assistants. Please pick out whichever twelve you'd like”

On the top shelf, almost out of Ford’s line of sight, lay half a dozen pristine-condition glazed donuts. The second shelf had a mixture of custard and jam donuts, while the third was filled with iced ring donuts covered in multicolored sugar sprinkles.

The last two shelves, Ford noticed, were layered with an array of all sorts of bizarrely shaped treats. Square ones, triangular ones, ones that seemed to defy the laws of physics themselves. Some of them merely looked as though they hadn’t come out of the oven quite right, while others were almost purposefully misshapen. Some of them were sculpted to resemble various mythical creatures, while others had strange combinations of letters iced onto them in different colours. Some had strange inscriptions written upon them in languages Ford had never seen before. A large sign was printed across the glass in front of these bottom two shelves: DO NOT TOUCH.

These treats looked like donuts and certainly _smelled_ like donuts, but something about them Ford just couldn’t quite put a finger on. Underneath the sugary dough smell lay something else, but a voice snapped Ford out of his thoughts before he had the chance to fully grasp them.

“Which ones would you like, dearie?” Beatrice asked as she opened up the cabinet. “Iced ones? Jam ones?”

“Six iced ones and six glazed ones, please,” Ford replied, trying to sound as polite as possible.

“Whoa, these ones are super weird!” Stan all but shunted his brother out of the way in favor of getting a closer view of the misshapen donuts on the bottom shelves. “They’re like freak donuts!”

“Those are my second-class ones,” Beatrice explained as she used a pair of tongs to pick out which donuts Ford had asked for, laying them out neatly in a cardboard box. “They taste just as good as my perfect ones, they’re just a little different.”

“I think they’re awesome!” Stan reached out a hand to grab one that appeared to have tiny teeth.

Beatrice smacked his hand away with the tongs, scowling. “Can’t you read, boy?! It says not to touch them! People have to eat those, you know.”

Stan held his offended hand close to himself and grumbled something about free samples under his breath, before going to sulk by the door. His eyes didn’t leave the shelves of irregular donuts, however.

“I apologise for my brother,” Ford said quietly once Beatrice had gathered up his order. “He tends to try and take whatever he can. He says he’s an opportunist.”

“Well, that kind of behaviour is going to land him in serious trouble one of these days.” Beatrice clearly wasn’t impressed as she brought the box of doughnuts to the counter. She rung up Ford’s order into the till. “Seventy-two cents, please.”  
Ford passed over the money Filbrick had given him and waited patiently for his change. As Beatrice rummaged through the till to count up the correct change, she failed to notice Stan eyeing up the donut cabinet with keen interest. Ford smiled and pocketed the change when it was handed to him. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome young man, thank you for being so polite. Now, I merely wish your brother had the same manners as yourself.”

“So do I,” Ford sighed, glancing over at his brother as he took the box of doughnuts from the counter. “Come on, Stanley, let’s get these back home.”

“Fine, but can we at least use the change to buy us some donuts?”

“No, Dad told us just to buy them for Mom’s party tonight, now come on.” Ford bid goodbye to Beatrice before all but dragging his brother from the store, much to Stan’s chagrin.

For the entire of the walk home, Stanley repeatedly asked about the five and dime, whining about how their father had allowed them to spend the change between them at the store. Ford insisted on getting the donuts home before they did anything else, though he didn’t admit that it was because he knew Stan would try and grab at least half of them if they were left unattended. Stanley eventually caved and agreed to let Ford give the donuts to their father first, but only if they went to the five and dime immediately afterwards.

“Dad, we’re home,” Ford called as he pushed open the door. “We got six glazed doughnuts and six iced ones.”

“In here, Stanford,” Filbrick said from the kitchen.

Ford headed into the kitchen. His father was reading the newspaper at the table.  Ford approached and set the box of donuts down. “Here, sir.”

Filbrick lowered the paper.  “Acceptable.”

Ford nodded as the paper went back up, then went outside to join his brother.  

Stan had been crouched over on the sidewalk like he was looking at something, but as soon as he heard Ford coming he leaped to his feet.  

“Finally!  Five and Dime, right?  The new issue of Astounding Tales is out and I wanna get that and a pack of gum!”

Ford sighed.  “You realize that would take all the change, right?”

“Right!”

Ford rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything.  After all, he wanted Astounding Tales, too, so maybe they could share.

They headed out to the store (avoiding the hobo alley). When they got there, Ford wandered the narrow aisles until he found the new comic. He loved Astounding Tales; he even kept his favorite two comics in his jacket at all times, in case he was stuck somewhere without a textbook to read. Then he found the bubblegum Stan liked and took both items to the counter, waiting for Stanley.

His brother didn’t show.

“Stan?” Ford called, craning his neck around the aisles.

“Kid, you gonna buy these or what?” the bored cashier asked.

“Just a second. Stan!”  Ford walked away, checking down each aisle.  Finally he saw Stan in the corner. He was hunched over.  And eating a donut.

“What are you _doing_?” Ford hissed, hurrying over.  “Did you take that from home? You know how mad Dad’s gonna be?!”

“ _Rerakf, Fikfer_ ,” Stan said, spraying crumbs. He swallowed. “Took it from the baker’s shelf thing. Want some?”  He held up the half-eaten donut. It had been one of the weird misshapen ones, vaguely human-shaped until Stan bit off the head. It was covered in blue-sugar sprinkles and oozed sweet-smelling vanilla cream. Still, it was stolen.  

Ford sighed and shook his head.  “Stan, can you try to maybe not grab everything in sight?”

“There was no price on those ones, so I figured they were free!” Stan retorted. “Besides, did you see that wart on her face?!”

“It’s impolite to point out people’s unusual facial features,” Ford told him with an air of annoyance. “You hate it when people laugh at my extra fingers, don’t you?”

“I guess, but I still think she should have at least let me try one of those weird donuts. Which is why I helped myself!” Stan grinned, waved the donut, and shoved the entire remaining half into his mouth.

“You’re going to get in loads of trouble if Dad finds out.”

“Oh relax, they’re just donut rejects. She’s not even gonna notice. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ford wasn’t really in the mood to buy anything anymore, and he insisted they keep some of the change so that they could pay the baker back if they got caught. Stan couldn’t buy anything with the remaining change, so he decided to save it for supplies for the Stan O’ War. Which is where they decided to go next. They had a buried metal can under the ship where they kept their savings.  Mostly because it felt cool to have their own “buried treasure”.

They had reached the beach when Ford noticed that his brother had both arms wrapped around his stomach.

“Stan? You okay?”

Stan groaned. “I don’t know what was in that donut, but my stomach really hurts.”

Ford frowned. He leaned closer to check if his brother had a fever, but all he could tell was that his brother really smelled like donut. “Do you think you might be sick?”

“I dunno, but I wanna go back to that bakery and ask why I feel like trash.” He looked up.  “Um...Sixer...is it just me or are the birds staring at us right now?”

Ford looked around.  The pigeons on the benches nearby had all turned to face them.  As they stood there several large seagulls and a pelican began slowly walking towards them over the sand.  

“Yeah, they’re definitely staring.  That’s...ominous.”

More birds were gathering.  Seven or eight more seagulls landed on the sidewalk in front of them.  And all of the birds had begun to step towards them, slowly, a predatory look in their beady black eyes.

Both boys took a step back.  

“Uh, Stanley?  I think maybe we should...oh, no.”

Stan stopped and looked down at his arms, following his brother’s gaze.  His arms were starting to brown, like he had been out in the sun way too long, and there was a powdery residue forming on his skin.

Ford reached out a hand to grab his brother’s arm. It felt warm. Not feverishly warm, just warmer than it should have been. His arm almost felt spongy and when Ford took his hand away, he felt small grains of a white, crystallised substance clinging to his fingertips. He held his fingers closer to his eyes to get a better look, then placed the tip of one finger against his tongue.

Sugar. The same sugar that had been on the donut Stan stole.

The seagulls squawked loudly as they took to the air and began to circle. The two boys decided to make haste to the boat as the pigeons too took to the air. A few dove at Stan. Ford whipped out the comics from his jacket and beat them off.

They ducked into the hull of their ship and tried to catch their breath.   

“Aw, no, my comics!  They’re all beat up now!”

“Sorry, Sixer,” Stan gasped.

Ford opened his mouth to scold Stan - these comics were his favorites and they were both out-of-print Special Editions - when he noticed that now there _was_ a particular smell in the air that might have attracted the birds. It was the smell of fresh baked goods, like someone was baking in their ship. Standing closer to Stan and taking a whiff, he realized it was coming from him.

“Stan, you smell like the bakers shop!”

Stan took a whiff of himself. “You’re right! What’s going on?”

“The donut! Maybe it’s turning you into one of them!”

Stan waved it off. “That’s silly. Donuts don’t change people into more donuts.  You’re just being paranormal again.”

“Again? Remember the New Jersey Devil?”

“Pfft, that doesn’t count.” Ford shot an annoyed look at his brother. “Fine, fine. What do we do then?”

“We’ve gotta go back to the shop and ask what to do.”

Stan shook his head. “You better go alone then, I won't last ten seconds out there like this.” He held out his arms to his side, his body slowly getting darker to a crispy brown.

“No way,” Ford said. “Twins stick together, always! Mystery Twins or bust!” He quickly looked around for something in the boat to help them. He spotted something that looked useful and picked one of them up. “Ready?”

Stan saw it, grabbed something for himself, and smiled. “Ready!”

They burst out of the ship. The birds dove in for their treat only to be met with a pair of two by fours as Stan smacked them away. Seconds later a crossbow shot out nearly pegging three birds in one shot. They scattered with angry squawks.

“GO!” Ford shouted. The twins ran for the boardwalk, swinging wildly at the birds that gave chase.

Finally they made it far enough inland that the seagulls gave up. Stan threw down his planks and they ran at a dead sprint for the Bakery. Ford shot bolt after bolt at the pigeons that followed. He ran out of ammo just as they reached the door and they threw themselves inside, hitting the gritty tile and gasping for breath. Ford kicked the door shut behind him and the pigeons braked hard, veering away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run that far before.” Ford wheezed.

“Or that fast.” Stan added as he stood back up. “But at least we’re finally…” Stan tried the door. Locked. But it had been open a second ago, hadn’t it? Why would it only lock from the inside?  He shook his head and noticed it was hard to do -- his body starting to become stiff. Was that from running hard or turning into dough? A trickle of fear crawled down his spine.

Ford tried the door, too. “No, this can’t be happening. They should still be open.  It says right here that they’re open right now!” He turned around. The shop was still full of goods, but the kitchen door behind the register looked locked. Well, if the front door’s keyhole was on the outside, then the only way out was through the kitchen. “Stanley, can you pick that lock?”

“Not sure. My fingers are stiff, but I’ll try.” Stan quickly fumbled with his pocket and produced his hairpins and moved awkwardly to the lock. He kept dropping the pins because his fingers wouldn’t bend properly. Ford had to pick them back up and place them in his hands several times.

Finally the lock opened with a small click and they slipped in. Their jaws dropped.

The little people who had been working earlier were all wearing different clothing, and their skin had turned blueberry blue. The portly woman was standing over a cavernous mixing bowl, cackling wildly as they pranced around her. She turned to the oven and it lit her face with a fearsome red glow.

“Ahah! My greatest creation shall now come to life! My minions, I give you… _chocolate croissants with powdered sugar!_ ” The oven sparked like thunder and lightning as she laughed crazily.  

“What _is_ this?” Ford demanded.

The baker whirled in surprise.  

“What are you doing in here? This is not a place for kids!” She stopped and looked at them more closely. “Wait a minute...you’re those two from this morning! Why are you back so soon?”

Ford cleared his throat. “Well...Stan stole a donut from you, but I didn’t want him to, and when I was going to tell, he gave me money not to tell, so I didn’t and he ate it all, but now he’s turning into a donut and we got attacked by seagulls and pigeons and we had to break in cause your door was locked and I didn’t mean for any of this to happen I just wanted another comic!”  He stopped to catch his breath.

The baker frowned and scratched under her hat. “Alright, alright, slow down a little. That’s right, deep breaths.” She shook her head.  “I was wondering what happened to that donut this morning. They don’t normally go missing like that, but every once in a while…” She gestured next to him.

Ford turned and his face went white as flour.  Stan had become completely stiff. His skin was crusted with sugar and his eyes - two white chocolate truffles - were frozen in mixed look of astonishment and horror.  He was a big powdery Stan-nut.

“Stan? STAN!”  Ford went to shake his shoulders, but the dough felt fragile and crumbly under his fingers.  “Oh no, it’s too late…”

The little blue people began to gather around, holding arms they began to sing.

 _“Dunkin, Krispy, Tim Hortons,_  
_We have got a lesson for you._  
_Dunkin, Krispy, Tim Hortons -_  
_Listen to us guys in blue._ _  
_ Never steal what isn’t yours,

 _Someday you’ll have to pay for your score._  
_Stealing’s bad, we all know that,_  
_But you still did it, like a rat._  
_Dunkin, Krispy, Tim Hortons._ _  
_ Now it is time to accept your fate.

 _Dunkin, Krispy, Tim Hortons._ _  
_ _Your destiny is to get ATE!”_

Ford stared at them.

“Do they do that often?” he finally managed.

The baker looked slightly puzzled. “No, no, that was a first. Huh. Anyway, I can fix your brother, but there will be... _a cost_.”

Ford swallowed. “Alright, if I have to work for you for the rest of your life, then I will. Just save my brother!”

“What? Oh, no! I just meant give me one of those comics you have in your back pocket. I’m a big fan myself and I haven’t had a chance to get one lately, with the new recipes an all.”

Ford slowly pulled out the comics from his back pocket and looked at them. They were sort of wrinkled from beating up seagulls, but they were still readable. And out-of-print. He wouldn’t be able to get another copy of these anywhere, much less the Five and Dime.  

He passed them both over.

The baker looked at him in surprise. “Are you sure you want to give me both?  I only asked for one.”

Ford nodded. “It isn’t right that I keep either since this is partly my fault. I should’ve come back and made him pay for them, but I didn’t want to get in trouble, either.”

The bakery witch smiled and laughed. “Alright. Well then, shall we begin? All we need to do is bake your brother in my oven!”

“WHAT!”  

“Calm down, it’s a magic oven. He’ll be fine. I just need to make the donut inside of him bake correctly and he’ll turn back to normal. It’s perfectly safe.”

Ford breathed a sigh of relief. The blue men quickly got out a huge metal sheet and placed Stan on top.  The baker took it and then looked at Ford.

“You know, I could throw a little sugar on him and make him a little... _sweeter_.  Would you like that?”

“No thank you,” Ford said. “I like my brother just the way he is.”

“Okay,” The baker smiled and placed Stan in the oven.

Ford sat down to wait. The blue men (and the baker) resumed their previous croissant-making, leaving Ford to watch as Stan’s doughy body began to rise. It was a slow process, but at least his brother looked oddly comfortable.

Two hours later a sharp _ding_ woke Ford from a nap. The baker stepped to the oven, opened it, and slid Stan out. Ford stood as his brother uncurled from what looked like a very comfy nap.

“What happened?”

“You ate a cursed donut and I let a witch pop you in the oven.”

“WHAT!”

The baker thwacked Stan on the head with her spoon. “The proper response is ‘Thank you, Baker Beatrice.’”

“AAAH! THE HIDEOUS WART LADY!”

Stan bolted for the exit. Ford ran after him, calling a quick thank-you over his shoulder and waving goodbye.

Beatrice watched them go, then smiled and shook her head.  

“Guess that one is a little weird, just like me.”

* * *

 

_Hey Donut_

_Thanks for organizing the server's Secret Santa. We know you've been going through a lot recently with what happened with your nephew and then your grandpa, and so we wanted to put together something special for you this holiday as a token of our appreciation for you and what you've done for us._

_We love you, Donut. Merry Christmas._

_-Arty, Deer, Icarus, Invader, Krisu, Lucky, Lutias, Momo, Purple, Redwood, Stand, Taelon, and Rift_

**Art (in order) Done** By: Taelon, Arty, Stand, Lutias, Krisu, Icarus, and Momo

 **Written By** : Delorean, Taelon, Invader, Redwood, and Rift

 **Witch Designed By** : Lucky

 


End file.
